


Could I Begin Again?

by Michage



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Time Travel Fix-It, there’s gonna be a happy ending i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michage/pseuds/Michage
Summary: When Cyran wakes up he’s confused. Didn’t he just die? Apparently not. He finds out he’s been shot back in time long before the Empire, and long before the war. The Force won’t give him a clear answer as to why, it never does, so he’ll figure it out on his own. Alone, as he’s always been. The Force seems to have other plans about the alone part.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Could I Begin Again?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dominoes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864643) by [meridianpony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianpony/pseuds/meridianpony). 



Cyran blinks his eyes open, squinting against the harsh sunlight. He turns away from the brightness, staring at the wall in confusion. What happened? Didn’t he just die? He remembers writhing on the floor, in unimaginable agony, the horrified screams of his friends, his fellow inquisitors, blending with his own as lightning danced throughout his body. Vader must’ve taken it too far that time. He remembers his friends holding him in their arms, their tortured sobs the last thing he heard as his vision faded. He thought he’d be happy that he was finally put out of his misery, but now he’s just confused. Is this the afterlife?

He slowly sits up, barely reacting to the dull pain in his body. He takes stock of his surroundings. He’s on a thin mattress on the ground, and he’s in some sort of pit. He looks up to see what time it was. Midday by the looks of it. As he looks around the strange pit he gets the nagging feeling that this place is familiar. He’s been here before, he knows in his gut that he has. 

_Where am I?_ he thinks as he tries to stand. He suppresses a groan as he stretches his sore muscles. He wobbles, eventually straightens, and raises his hand to block out the obnoxious sun, but he freezes, his blood growing cold with dread.

Cyran’s hands are a lot smaller than he remembers them. He notices he looks worryingly thin as he twists his arms this way and that. He looks down, and his stomach sinks even further. He’s wearing a long, tattered tunic, practically a dress with a rope tied around his waist. All at once, memories rush back to him in waves, memories he had long since buried.

He’s been here in the past, before he was brainwashed into becoming one of Vader’s rabid dogs. He was a slave, a slave in Zygerria. When he was first caught the Zygerrian Empire was hanging on by the tiniest threads, then suddenly during that war the empire grew alarmingly, then the queen was killed. The rest was a blur, but he remembers being dragged into a shuttle and brought upon the biggest starship he’s ever seen, then to the feet of Darth Vader himself. He knows the rest; becoming an Inquisitor, meeting his first real friends, years of more pain and suffering, his final moments, then waking up back in this utter hellhole.

Was all of that a dream? It certainly felt real. A little voice whispers in the back of his head. The Force. It wasn’t a dream. He lived, died, then somehow came back to life to when he was a child. He feels for a collar on his neck, not surprised when he feels the metal beneath his small fingers.

“You there!” A sudden voice makes him almost leap right out of his skin. He looks around wildly, then his gaze lands on a guard looking right at him. The guard’s on a winged creature (He never knew what it was called). The guard grabs the reins of the creature and guides it into the air. Cyran’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s about to happen.

He only has a moment to prepare before the creature swoops down and plucks him off the ground. He flails as he’s lifted into the air, then he’s dropped. He hits the ground with a thud, then slowly gets to his feet. Two guards approach him, grab his arms in vice like grips and haul him away from the pit.

* * *

He’s handed a tray with drinks, and is ordered to accompany the Queen as she goes about her daily duties. He remembers he’d normally zone out and empty his mind, less he goes insane. This time he plots his escape. He starts by watching the patrols, figuring out their schedules and paths.

After two weeks of staying in the pit he’s moved to a small cage that dangles over the edge of the balcony, giving him a perfect viewpoint of the entire city. He watches the streets and listens, expanding his senses with the Force to find out anything that could help him. 

He finds out when ships are arriving or leaving, and what kinds they are, and who’s piloting them. The ships aren’t as consistent as the guards, but there are freighters who come regularly. He can use those to his advantage.

Playing the long game was never his strong suit, but he needs to if he’s to escape alive. Every two weeks he’s switched from the pit to the dangling cage. He doesn’t know the reason why, and he frankly doesn’t care. Whenever he’s not eavesdropping on gossiping guards (He thanks his Togruta quality hearing paired with the Force) or studying the layout of the palace and the city, he’s meditating. 

He wants to figure out why he’s been thrown back in time. He’s already figured out the Empire cannot come again based on the unnecessarily gruesome visions, but he knows that isn’t the only reason. He keeps seeing a man; fair skin, wavy brown locks, piercing blue eyes, and a dashing smile. He also sees the clone troopers in his visions. He always thought they were strange. He didn’t know where they came from, and he didn’t care enough to ask. 

They were scarily competent soldiers, but they always felt _off._ They had seemed cold, lifeless even, but the ones in his dreams were the exact opposite. They were warm, inviting, and so full of life and love it was almost overwhelming. Cyran’s certain he’ll never figure out what these visions mean. In the meantime he waits for the right moment to escape.

* * *

After months of waiting and planning he finally has his moment to escape. There’s been rumours going on between the other slaves that some of the freighter pilots have been helping slaves escape, and one of those kind souls, a lavender Twi’lek, happens to be near Cyran as he trails behind the queen.

She empties her last glass and orders him to go to the kitchens and get more. He bows and quickly slips away. He enters the bustling kitchen and places the tray on one of the counters. Instead of going to the storage room in the back to get more, he slips back out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He goes back the way he came, dodging the guard patrols and other slaves. He wishes he could do more for them, but he can’t. He only hopes he can return later and help free every single slave on this hellhole.

Cyran makes it to where he spotted the freighter, relieved to see the ship’s still there. The pilot’s almost done loading crates, so he has to hurry. Cyran looks around, and when the guards backs are turned he calls upon the Force to help him zip across the courtyard and into the ship’s cargo bay.

The pilot starts and whips around, stormy grey eyes wide with surprise. They almost drop the crate in their hands, but they calm down then they realize he’s not a guard. They usher him to the cabins and out of sight. When the door to the cabin closes Cyran leans against the door, the reality of what just happened sinking in as he slides down from weak knees. He’s not out completely, so he can’t lower his guard yet.

Eventually he feels the ship lift off, and he stumbles out of the cabin and to the cockpit. He never liked flying in ships, especially in space. They’re so small and constricting, and anything could go wrong and kill whoever’s unlucky enough to be there. At the moment his desire to be free outweighs his fear of space travel.

He gets to the cockpit as the clear blue sky fades to a black canvas littered with stars. After the pilot punches in coordinates, they pull a lever, and the stars stretch as the ship’s launched into hyperspace. The swirling blue streaking past the viewport fills him with awe, and he stares in wonder for a few moments, before the sight overwhelms him and he has to go back to the cabin. He flops onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as his brain finally catches up. 

He escaped. 

He _escaped._

He’s _free._

Tears well up in his eyes and stream down his face like a rushing river. He clamps a hand over his mouth as he starts to sob, not muffling them completely, but still quieting them as his body trembles. _I’m free. I’m free. I’m really free._ he repeats in his head as he continues to cry, mourning a whole life lost because he was too scared to take a risk and reach.

* * *

The freighter pilot eventually lands on some backwater planet a few days later to drop off their cargo. They had helped Cyran remove the collar from his neck on the way there. They then ask him where he wants to go. Cyran thinks, then the Force provides an answer. He types in the coordinates in their navicomputer, and merely shrugs at the strange look they give him.

The planet in question was a desolate moon, a barren wasteland full of snow. The pilot offers him a cloak, but he declines, saying helping him escape was more than enough. They’re hesitant to leave, but they wish him luck before they escort him off the ship.

He watches the ramp close, watching the ship lift off and sail towards the atmosphere. He waits until he feels the pilot leave the system before turning and starting his trek through the snow, using the Force to keep himself warm.

Eventually he reaches a small cave. He makes his way inside, trusting the Force to lead him where he needs to go. This cave may seem small on the outside, but it stretches down and spreads for miles and miles. It’s very easy to get lost in there, and very few beings know what the maze hides, Cyran included. He hasn’t been here since he was stolen away years ago. Whenever unwanted visitors manage to find it, the cave switches it’s layout so it’s completely different, and it also spreads further out.

Cyran doesn’t know how he knows this, but he’s not complaining. He’d give anything to learn about his long lost culture.

He eventually reaches a dead end, and he’s starting to think he’s taken a wrong turn before he feels it; a very faint but insistent tug in his gut. This is the right place. He slowly approaches, placing a hand on the cold stone wall. He extends his senses, the tug in his gut growing. He imagines opening a door, and a light makes him open his eyes. Familiar letters make a dome shape, the center glowing white. Cyran takes a deep breath, exhales, and steps through the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another time travel fic by yours truly X’D this time it’s Cyran XD i’m gonna have fun with this one >:3c
> 
> Thank y’all so much for reading!! Stay tuned for the next chapter!!


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